Knight In Mourning
by Rainack
Summary: Sequal to Knight Fall. When Michael is killed on a case, can Carlee and K.I.T.T. catch his killer? Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

As usual, I claim no ownership of the Knight Rider characters. I only claim owner ship of Carlee and the story idea.

Knight In Mourning

Chapter 1

The black T-top Trans Am sat silently in the middle of the garage floor. Its flawless paint reflected what little light there was. The blue licence plate, displaying KNIGHT in yellow lettering, was nearly the only spot of color on the sleek, black car. In the nose, where the hood and bumper came together, a red light tracked back and forth.

With his scanner running, K.I.T.T. knew the instant Devon's hand touched the door knob to the connecting door from the mansion to the garage. Devon had been trying to talk to him for the last two weeks, ever since the last mission. K.I.T.T. knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He would have to hear what Devon had to say.

K.I.T.T. muted his internal speakers, so his conversation with Devon wouldn't disturb the dark haired woman fitfully sleeping in his passenger seat.

Devon cautiously approached, the look of profound sorrow on his distinguished face giving way to concern when he saw Carlee curled up in K.I.T.T.'s passenger seat.

"It's okay. I've muted my internal speaker so we won't disturb her," K.I.T.T. spoke to Devon for the first time in two weeks. The first time since Michael had been shot and killed in the middle of a mission gone terribly wrong.

The concern in Devon's face eased somewhat.

"I suppose you've come to talk about finding me a new driver," K.I.T.T. began, not giving Devon a chance to talk. "I..." K.I.T.T. wasn't sure how to continue.

"K.I.T.T., there's something you should know. Wilton Knight left me a letter that was to be opened only upon Michael's untimely death," Devon pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, and took a breath. "It concerns his wishes for your welfare in that event."

Devon unfolded the paper and began to read, "Devon. If you are reading this, then Michael Knight has died, leaving the Knight Two Thousand without a driver. I know your first thought would be to find a replacement. I suspect though, that you will find that quite impossible."

Devon's hand trembled as he continued, "When we first programmed K.I.T.T., we had no idea of the limits of his growth. By now, I'm sure you've possibly discovered he has formed a deep attachment to Michael. An attachment that can never be replaced. I am authorizing you to release K.I.T.T. from any ties to the Foundation. He may remain on the property if he wishes, but he does not have to further serve F.L.A.G. He is free to fully become his own person." Devon refolded the letter and stuffed it back into his pocket.

K.I.T.T. sat, silent for a moment. "I don't... Where would I go? What would I do?"

"Anything you want, K.I.T.T."

"What about Carlee? What would happen to her if I left?"

As if hearing her name, Carlee groaned in her sleep, her right hand reaching out to the empty driver's seat.

"She's welcome to stay here as long as she wants. She's become a valuable asset to the Foundation the last few years."

"I don't know... I'll have to think about it. Talk it over with Mi...," realizing what he'd been about to say, K.I.T.T. let out a low moan.

"Don't make any decisions right away, K.I.T.T. You're still grieving. Give yourself some time," Devon patted K.I.T.T.'s hood tenderly, then turned to leave.

* * *

"Michael!" Carlee cried out, sitting bolt upright in K.I.T.T.'s passenger seat. Reality set back in with a rush, and tears flooded her blue eyes.

K.I.T.T.'s engine rumbled to life and he began driving forwards and backwards, his version of holding and rocking her. A low keening sound filled the air, as he added his own anguish to hers.

A few minutes later, Carlee managed to wipe away her tears. She ran her fingers through her shoulder length hair, doing her best to tame it.

As Carlee had settled, so had K.I.T.T. He came to a stop and shut off his engine. The keening faded away, as if it had never been.

"Good morning, Carlee."

"Hi, K.I.T.T.," Carlee responded quietly.

"Did you sleep any better?" K.I.T.T. inquired.

"I'm sure you already know the answer to that one, so I'm not going to answer it. Instead, I'm going to go get some breakfast," the first part had been said around a snort of sarcastic laughter. Carlee had cut it off quickly though, out of fear that the laughter would turn hysterical and unstoppable.

She opened the passenger side door and got out. She stretched her slim, five foot seven frame to work out the kinks.

Her blue eyes scanned the space, passing quickly over the small office area where she and Michael had spent so much of their time, so they could be near K.I.T.T. Bonnie's work area, farther on, was deserted.

Carlee turned and hurried between the two spaces to the door leading into the mansion, and the kitchen.

The mansion's cook had prepared the usual expansive breakfast spread. Carlee took a small plate and put a large spoonful of scrambled eggs on it. She also took a slice of buttered toast.

In the last two weeks, Carlee had only been able to force down enough food to keep herself going. There was no joy in food, or anything else, anymore.

After choking down a little more than half of her breakfast, feeling the entire time that it might come rushing back up, she contemplated a shower, or at least a change of clothes. She just couldn't bring herself to face the suite she and Michael had shared for the last four years. Too many memories resided there.

Instead, she went in search of Devon.

It wasn't hard to find him, as he was in his office, where he spent most of his time.

Without even a "How are you?," Carlee said, "I want to take over the mission. I want to find the bastard that did this and bring him to justice, and I want to use K.I.T.T. to help me."

"No! You're too close to the case. You know that!"

"Devon, the feds have gotten no where! It's been two weeks, the trail is going to go cold. I'll do this on my own, if I have to! I will find Michael's killer!"

Devon sighed, "I have no doubt you would go out on your own." Devon muttered something under his breath, then said, "Fine! You'll have to ask K.I.T.T. yourself, though. He's no longer Foundation property. Though I'm sure I already know his answer."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Carlee had also expected K.I.T.T. to readily agree to help her. She certainly hadn't expected him to try to talk her out of it.

"What aren't you telling me, K.I.T.T.?" Carlee demanded. "I know you too well. There's something you're keeping from me. Is it about how Michael died?"

"I'm not hiding anything! I just don't think we can be objective about this mission. If we catch up to Michael's killer, I don't know that you'd be able to restrain yourself. I don't know that I'd even try to stop you, either."

"Michael would want us to finish this, K.I.T.T. You know he would. We _need_ to do this. For 'closure.' I'm going after the bastard, with or without your help!"

"All right, I'll help. But if I think it's getting too dangerous, we let the feds take over," K.I.T.T. replied, reluctantly.

"Okay. Fine!" Carlee responded. "Let me go throw together a carry bag."

* * *

When Carlee left the garage, K.I.T.T. used the intercom system to call Bonnie. He informed her of their plans and requested a systems check to ensure he was performing at peak efficiency.

As Bonnie began hooking cables from the mainframe into K.I.T.T., he felt compelled to speak.

"Bonnie, do you think Wilton Knight foresaw that I would develop emotions?"

"He didn't specifically program you with emotions, but I think he gave you the capacity to learn. He also allowed you to develop attachments to people you are in contact with constantly. I think he either suspected or at least hoped, that you would gain the ability to feel."

"I'm not sure I can handle all of these feelings! I miss Michael so much! I'm full of rage at the people who took him from me. I feel so helpless when Carlee cries."

Bonnie softly stroked K.I.T.T.'s hood before reaching into his engine compartment to unhook the cable again. "Those are very normal grief responses, K.I.T.T. They will ease with time."

"Since Carlee will be at least my temporary driver, she'll be needing a comm link so we can stay in contact," K.I.T.T. said, changing the subject back to the task at hand.

"I've got a spare. It just needs to be linked up," Bonnie responded, walking over to a cabinet along the garage wall. "I've already loaded the latest information from the investigation into your memory banks."

Bonnie retrieved the comm link from the cabinet, then went back to K.I.T.T., who opened his passenger side door for her to get in.

"Okay, open your comm link channel so I can set the new comm link."

K.I.T.T. did as instructed and the link was quickly established.

"Are you going to let her drive?" Bonnie had noticed the fact that K.I.T.T. hadn't let her get in the driver's side. In fact, no one had sat in the driver's seat since Michael died.

"What's it like to die?" K.I.T.T. asked, changing the subject yet again.

Bonnie sat in stunned silence for a moment. "Um, well." She pushed her wavy, shoulder length black hair behind one ear, trying to give herself a minute to think. "Noone really knows, K.I.T.T. There are many different beliefs in an afterlife, but no one really knows."

"Do you believe in an afterlife, Bonnie?" K.I.T.T. asked, tentatively.

"I like to believe there is something more after this. A beautiful place where you're reunited with all of your loved ones who passed before you," Bonnie replied, absently fiddling with the comm link she still held.

"What about for me?" K.I.T.T. asked. His frame very nearly trembled with the need to know the answer to that question above all others.

"I... I don't know, K.I.T.T. I guess, barring something completely destroying your CPU, you could exist forever. I don't think that's what you wanted to know, though. You want to know if you would go on to an afterlife if you cease functioning, right?"

"Yes, Bonnie!"

"People generally believe that their soul is what goes to an afterlife. Most people I know would probably say you're a machine, and thus incapable of having a soul," Bonnie paused, looking towards K.I.T.T.'s voice modulator.

"What do you think?" K.I.T.T. asked quietly.

"I know what I've seen between you and Michael, and now you and Carlee. I don't care what my colleagues would say, you have a soul that is more gentle than most human beings, K.I.T.T.!" Bonnie exclaimed.

"Thank you," was K.I.T.T.'s response. Then he changed the subject yet again, "Bonnie, I've noticed something the last couple of times I've scanned Carlee."

"Let's see them," Bonnie said. She looked the scans over, taking note of what K.I.T.T. was pointed out. A moment later, she said, "You're right. Does she know?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way until this is over. I'm not sure how she'd take it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Carlee took an unsteady breath, her hand on the doorknob of the three room suite she had shared with Michael, as his wife. In the last two weeks, she had avoided the rooms as much as possible, only coming in to shower and change. Each time she entered, the rooms felt like they were constricting upon her. She couldn't breath, and she had to get out as quickly as possible.

Taking a deep breath, she entered.

There was very little in the livingroom to show that two people had shared a life here. There were a few photos. Some with Michael and her, a few with her and K.I.T.T., a few more with Michael and K.I.T.T., even a couple of all three of them.

In all of the photos, Michael's blue eyes twinkled merrily. In some, he was leaning his six foot three frame comfortably against K.I.T.T. In the ones with her, his sun bronzed skin contrasted nicely with her paler skin tone.

Her favorite was a picture of the two of them, taken on their honeymoon. He was standing behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. His curly dark hair was wind blown, and his face was alight with one of his trademark grins.

Carlee pulled herself back, before she lost herself in the pictures.

Michael had left one of his black jackets, the one with the white piping, draped over the couch. Even though this was the livingroom, she and Michael had done very little living in it, choosing, instead, to spend their time in the garage with K.I.T.T., or in the bedroom, so this was the only clutter in the room.

Now, Carlee picked up the jacket, hugging it to her, and breathing in Michael's lingering scent. She shrugged into the jacket, and wiped a way a couple of stray tears.

She moved off into the bedroom. The bed was still unmade, the way she had left it the day Michael had died. She hadn't slept in it in all that time, preferring to sleep in K.I.T.T.'s comforting presence.

Carlee pulled her duffle bag out of the closet and quickly stuffed in clothes and toiletries for the next week. She also strapped on her shoulder holster and Glock 9 mm.

* * *

As she exited the suite, duffle bag in hand, Carlee's mind turned to the mission.

She didn't know all of the details, but she knew K.I.T.T. could fill in what was missing.

She knew the head of the LAPD anti gang unit had called Devon, asking for F.L.A.G.'s help with a new Columbian mob syndicate that was moving into L.A.

The LAPD had told Devon that the DEA had their own investigation going. When the LAPD had approached them about a joint venture, they were told to mind their own business.

The LAPD needed the leader identified, so he could be apprehended. They'd sent in two undercover officers, but they had both disappeared.

Michael had gone deep undercover for the assignment, even going so far as to leave K.I.T.T. waiting in the wings for his call. He had worked his way up in the organization over the course of several weeks. Slowly building trust, or at least that's what he thought.

Someone inside had suspected Michael, though. The syndicate leader, still unidentified, had a trap set to catch Michael the next time he communicated with "the outside," which was K.I.T.T., in this case.

That was the extent of her knowledge of what had happened. She knew Michael had been shot within feet of the safety of K.I.T.T.'s interior, but K.I.T.T. refused to talk about it. He wouldn't have a choice, now. It could help them find the mob leader and the triggerman.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bonnie had waited for Carlee in the garage, leaning casually against K.I.T.T.'s front fender.

She held out her hand, the newly linked comm link resting on her up turned palm. "K.I.T.T. asked me to set up a comm link for you."

Carlee took the comm link, which looked like nothing more than an ordinary digital wrist watch, and strapped it on her wrist.

Bonnie pulled Carlee into a sisterly embrace, saying, "Please, be careful! I don't think K.I.T.T., or for that matter the rest of us, could take losing you, too!"

"I will! I promise!" and with that, Carlee turned to K.I.T.T., who opened his driver's side door for her. "Oh, K.I.T.T., are you sure?"

"Yes, Carlee. You are the only other person I would ever want to drive me!"

Carlee settled herself into the driver's seat. She had to pull the seat forward several inches, so she could reach the gull wing steering wheel, and the pedals. She adjusted the mirrors, then turned the key in the ignition. K.I.T.T.'s turbine engine rumbled to life.

Carlee backed K.I.T.T. out of the garage, and drove towards Los Angeles.

"What will we do first," K.I.T.T. inquired.

"We're going back to the warehouse where Michael was shot. There may be something the police missed. K.I.T.T., I need all of the details about what happened that night. I know this is going to be hard on both of us, but I need any audio and visual you have."

K.I.T.T. let out a human sounding sigh of resignation, "Very well."

An audio recording of K.I.T.T.'s last conversation with Michael came on.

"Hey, Pal! You there?"

"Where else would I be, Michael?" K.I.T.T. responded amiably to Michael's banter.

"Just wanted to check in, let you know I'm okay. I'm getting close to identifying the boss."

"Michael! My scanners indicate our signal has been intercepted! Get out of there! I'm on my way!"

K.I.T.T.'s recorder now picked up static from Michael's end. Michael's comm link had either been damaged or lost.

"Michael! Michael!" On the recording, an engine roared to life, and tires squealed on pavement. Then the recording cut off.

"I was parked in a parking structure two miles away. I reached the warehouse in one minute, nineteen seconds, just as this was taking place," K.I.T.T.'s dash monitor came to life.

Carlee watched in horrified fascination.

Michael stumbled out a side access door of the warehouse, into the alley. He had blood running down the side of his face from a head wound, and he was cradling his left arm.

He nearly stumbled, but managed to keep his balance.

Two men charged out the door right on Michael's heels. He dropped one with a round house kick to the chest. The other already had his gun out and trained on Michael.

There was no way for K.I.T.T. to get between the two men, so he opened his driver side door, yelling, "Hurry, Michael! Get in!"

Michael's roundhouse kick had left him facing K.I.T.T. He leapt forward. Nearly simultaneously, two shots echoed through the alley.

The impact of the bullets into Michael's back propelled him forward two more steps. Then he crumpled to the ground and lay still.

K.I.T.T. was yelling, "Michael! Michael! Hang on! Help is on the way!"

The gunman jumped on a nearby motorcycle, gunned it to life, and sped away. K.I.T.T. made no move to follow, choosing to stay at his fallen driver's side.

K.I.T.T. turned the recording off. Bringing up a still shot of the gunman to replace the video.

"I called 911, but my life signs scanner already told me it was too late," K.I.T.T. whispered, as if afraid Carlee would blame him for Michael's death.

"It's not your fault, K.I.T.T. You did everything humanly possible to protect him."

"That's just it, though. I'm not human! There should have been something more I could have done," K.I.T.T. trailed off into the low keening sound of his sobs.

Tears shimmered in Carlee's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Later, she would mourn again. Right now, she had a friend who desperately needed her, and a job to be done.

"Now you listen to me, K.I.T.T.! There was nothing else you could have done! _Nothing!_ We are going to find that gunman, and God willing, the mob boss, too. We are going to bring them to justice for what they've done! It's what Michael would do, if he were here. It's what he would want us to do, now, together!"

The keening sound slowly faded away.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The alley where Michael had been shot was still cordoned off as a crime scene, but it was exposed to the elements. Carlee doubted she'd find anything there that the police had missed. She was slightly more hopeful about the warehouse, though. After all, the police hadn't had K.I.T.T.'s advanced scanners to scan the place.

By the time the police had arrived at the warehouse, it had been cleared out, all traces of the mob operation that had gone on there were erased.

Carlee pulled a flashlight out of K.I.T.T.'s glove box, and pulled her Glock free of its holster.

Getting out of the car, Carlee visually surveyed the alley. It ended in a dead end about twenty feet from where she was standing, and seemed to be more of a loading dock than an alley. Up against the wall of the other building, several trash bins overflowed with boxes and other detritus. The pavement where she was standing was stained and cracked. A few feet away, the stains were fresher, the red having faded into brown where Michael's blood had fallen and dried.

Carlee swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Keep your scanners peeled, K.I.T.T.," she said as she approached the access door.

"Carlee, please be careful. Some of the building materials must contain lead. I'm having a difficult time scanning. It appears to be deserted, though."

"I remember my training, K.I.T.T. I'll be okay," Carlee replied, as she tested the door knob. Locked.

"A little help, here?" Carlee asked.

K.I.T.T. focused on the lock mechanism.

There was a barely audible click, and the door swung inward.

The vast space inside was nearly black as pitch. This part of the building had no windows. Carlee switched on the flashlight and stepped inside. "I'm going to leave the door open, K.I.T.T. It'll make it easier to find my way back out."

Carlee swept the flashlight around the warehouse floor, wondering if there could possibly be anything worth finding down here. She thought her best bet lay in the warehouse offices.

She quickly walked to the front of the warehouse, located the stairs leading to the offices, and ascended.

The walkway looked out over the warehouse floor. There were four doors leading into four different offices. They each had a window in the door.

Carlee looked down into the warehouse. The open door was a beacon in the darkness. Out the door, she could see K.I.T.T.'s front fender and wheel. "I'm going to check the offices," Carlee said into the comm link, reassuring K.I.T.T. that she was okay. "Are you picking anything up, like a floor or wall safe?"

"I'm still having difficulties because of the lead, but there may be something in the second office. In the floor," K.I.T.T. replied.

"Okay, I'll check it in a minute. I'm going in the first office right now."

Carlee pushed the door open. She went in quick and low, checking to make sure she was alone, before taking a close look around. The room was deserted. Not even a chair remained. One corner of the room yielded a torn piece of paper stuck under the partition separating this office from the next.

She carefully pulled it free, and put it in her jacket pocket for close examination later.

She closed the door behind her, and moved on to the second office. Carlee repeated checking the room for occupants before checking for contents. This office was also devoid of furniture. There was nothing on the floor, either.

"K.I.T.T., I'm in the second office. Can you direct me to the floor safe?"

"Take a step to your left, now two forward. You're standing right over it."

"Thank you, K.I.T.T."

The floor was covered in worn linoleum tiles. Carlee got down on her hands and knees to inspect the ones she'd been standing on. At first glance, they appeared well adhered to the floor, but Carlee was able to use a pocket knife to lift up the corner of one. She pulled that one off, then three others, and set them aside.

Underneath them, there was a square of flooring with two small rings in the top. She grabbed the rings and lifted the piece out of the floor, revealing a combination locked floor safe.

"Okay, K.I.T.T. I need you to work your magic, again."

"It's hardly magic," K.I.T.T. said, as he set to work determining the combination. It took him a minute more than usual because of the interference from the lead.

The lock popped open, and Carlee pulled the lid off the safe.

Carlee let out a low whistle. "Well, it looks like someone didn't clean house very well. This safe is full. Mostly cash, but there are a few files, too." Carlee pulled the files, stuffing them into the front of her jacket.

"Carlee, I'm detecting three people heading toward the front door. Get out of there, now!" K.I.T.T. hissed through the comm link.

Carlee left the safe and hid beside the door, listening. She switched off the flashlight, and held her gun at the ready.

She heard a clang, then light flooded the building as another outside door was opened. This time one of the large cargo doors at the building's front. There were several shouts of alarm, when the new comers discovered the access door standing wide open, and saw the black T-top outside.

"Hey, that's Knight's car!" this voice rose an octave on the word Knight.

"That's eempossible! Ramon shot heem!" the voice said in a heavy Columbian accent.

"Well, it's here now, and that means someone's here with it, probably up in the offices. I'll make sure this one doesn't escape, either," said a third voice. Carlee had the suspicion that this might be Ramon.

"K.I.T.T.!" Carlee hissed into her comm link. "I need you in here. Position yourself under the walkway by the second office and open your top."

"Carlee, it's too dangerous! You can't jump down," K.I.T.T. responded.

"I'll be fine! Just get in here, or things are going to get very ugly, very fast!"

"It's not you I'm worried about," K.I.T.T. shot back, but his engine rumbled to life.

"Oh, worried about your own hide! And exactly how many times did Michael pull this kind of stunt?" Carlee snapped back.

K.I.T.T. didn't bother to respond, though. Instead, he came crashing through the cargo door the access door had been part of. He fish tailed around, coming to a stop exactly where Carlee had wanted him. His T-top open in invitation.

By now, the three men had begun to open fire on K.I.T.T.

Carlee used their distraction to her advantage. She covered the short distance from the door to the walkway railing in two strides, checked her position, and vaulted over the railing. She landed on the driver's side seat, and K.I.T.T. instantly closed the T-top.

K.I.T.T. shifted into gear, and with squealing tires, sped out of the warehouse.

"Thanks, K.I.T.T.!" Carlee breathed a sight of relief. "That was close!"

"Nearly too close," K.I.T.T. shot back.

Carlee chose to ignore him. Instead, pulling the files and the torn paper out of her jacket.

She inspected the torn piece of paper first. It had several red spots of directional spatter, and the first two letters of a word. She suspected she knew what the spatter was.

"K.I.T.T. analyze this for finger prints and blood," Carlee said, holding the paper out.

K.I.T.T.'s analyzer popped out, and she put the scrap in it. K.I.T.T. began running the scan.

Carlee turned her attention to the files.

On the outside, they seemed very ordinary. Manilla colored file folders. No markings to indicate what they contained.

"The analysis is complete," K.I.T.T. said. "The blood is Michael's. Possibly deposited when he sustained the head wound. There are three sets of prints on the paper. Yours, Michael's, and this man's," a photograph of a Latino man in his late thirty's appeared on the screen.

"His name is Hector Rodriguez. He's on Columbia's most wanted list as the head of the Juarez drug cartel. He disappeared from Columbia last year. The Columbian authorities alerted the DEA that he may have come here to set up shop."

"Get me in touch with the DEA agents working the case. I want to know everything they know." Carlee said, opening the first of the file folders.

Michael's face grinned up at her from a photograph. She flipped through several more. Someone had been following Michael for some time. There were even a couple of her and Michael, the one time he'd been able to slip away for a couple of hours to see her.

"They knew Michael was undercover nearly from the beginning," Carlee exclaimed in horror. She practically threw the folder onto the passenger seat.

She opened the other folder. "Delivery schedules. Oh, the DEA will love this, some of these haven't happened yet. We need to hurry though, they're scheduled within the hour. Plus, those guys from the warehouse are going to warn the delivery men that we got this file."

"I just got off the phone with the special agent in charge. They're on their way to meet us," K.I.T.T. said several minutes later.

They pulled into a mall parking lot a few minutes later. Just moments after that, Carlee was startled by a tap on the window. She closed the file she'd been reading and looked up to see a face and a badge held up to the window.

Carlee picked up the files, and the two printouts K.I.T.T. had made for her of Rodriguez and Ramon, and got out of the car.

"I'm Agent John Bradford, Mrs. Knight. I talked to Mr. Miles on the phone, and he verified your employment with F.L.A.G. We're glad to have the help. We've been looking for Hector Rodriguez for months."

Agent Bradford was nothing remarkable, as men went. He was a couple inches shorter than Carlee. She thought he was probably about her age. His brown hair was beginning to thin in places, though. He wore a charcoal gray business suit.

Carlee handed Agent Bradford the files, thinking to herself that there was something familiar about this man. She just couldn't place what, though.

That's when he pulled his gun on her.

"Hector will be quite pleased to have these back," his voice rose an octave as he finished the sentence. "Very carefully, pull your gun from it's holster and hand it to me!"

Carlee slowly did as she was instructed. Bradford took the weapon and shoved it in his waistband, then took a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Carlee's hands behind her back.

He then pulled her around to K.I.T.T.'s passenger side and shoved her roughly in.

While Bradford made his way to the driver side, Carlee quickly said, "Go with it, K.I.T.T.!"

Bradford got in, and took a quizzical look at the dashboard. He then shrugged and started the car.

K.I.T.T. allowed himself to be driven away. He just hoped Carlee knew what she was doing.

Carlee fumed at herself. She had been blind sided, just when she thought justice was in sight.

"Look, don't do something stupid," Carlee said, more for K.I.T.T.'s sake than for Bradford's sake. "You haven't killed anyone, yet. You can still get a deal. Help put Rodriguez and Ramon away for a very long time."

"I'm a plant in the agency. I'm Rodriguez's man. Knight, and you, never should have been poking your noses where they don't belong."

"When Hector's man killed my husband, it became my business!"

Carlee looked out the window, noticing they were headed out into the mountains surrounding L.A.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Where are we going?" Carlee asked, nearly twenty minutes later, trying to cover her struggles to release the lock pick from its concealed home in the sleeve of Michael's jacket. He'd always made this look so easy!

Bradford looked over at Carlee, then reached behind her and roughly ripped the pick from the sleeve. "Nice try! Hector and Ramon wanted to see who it was that managed to find their secret stash."

"If my hands were free, I'd show you how I found it!" Carlee growled.

Without warning, the radio blared to life, making Bradford jump. Carlee felt the handcuffs loosen, as they unlocked. She grabbed them, hoping to hold them so they looked like they were still secure.

Bradford fumbled around the dashboard trying to find the radio controls. "What the..." he spat out over the din.

Just as suddenly, the radio went off again.

"Yeah, been meaning to fix that. It's been on the fritz for a while," Carlee said, looking out the window as they pulled into a huge gravel driveway.

It was curved in front of a large mansion. The grounds were well tended, with green grass and flowering bushes. At the side of the house, Carlee could see a helipad with a helicopter idling on it. Carlee briefly wondered how Rodriguez could get away with having an armed helicopter on his property.

She could see a chain gun on one side and a rocket launcher on the other. As she watched, two men walked from the house to the helicopter. As soon as they were in, the chopper's rotors were beginning to spin faster.

"I think this is where we make our exit, K.I.T.T.," Carlee said in a rush.

Bradford looked over at Carlee, his eyes narrowed as he tried to comprehend what Carlee could have meant.

The next instant, Bradley looked up in alarm, as the T-top popped open.

His eyes were as round as saucers when he went sailing out of the driver's seat and hit the manicured lawn several feet away.

Bradford watched in shock as the car drove away, Carlee still sitting in the passenger seat.

"Somehow, I think they had this planned from the start, K.I.T.T." Carlee said, as she crawled over the center console and into the driver's seat.

"I think you may be right. The rockets are heat seekers," K.I.T.T.'s voice carried mild alarm.

"Call the police. Get them out here to pick up Bradford. We're going to have to deal with that helicopter ourselves."

The chopper had just lifted off the ground.

Carlee took control, spinning K.I.T.T. through a three sixty as quickly as she could. Stomping on the accelerator, she sent them back the way they had come. Gravel shot out from under K.I.T.T.'s tires as he gained traction. Bradford, still sitting on the lawn, threw his hands up as some of the gravel flew his way.

A second later, the first chain gun bullets hit K.I.T.T.'s rear end. K.I.T.T.'s molecular bonded shell caused the bullets to bounce off harmlessly. They didn't want to find out what affect one of the rockets might have on him, though.

As soon as K.I.T.T.'s tires hit the asphalt road, Carlee punched him up to nearly two hundred miles per hour, temporarily leaving the helicopter behind.

It didn't take long for the chopper to start gaining on them, again. This time, it let loose a rocket. They hadn't had a lock, though, so it slammed into the roadside a few dozen feet away.

"I can't take a direct hit from one of those rockets, Carlee!" K.I.T.T. exclaimed.

"Okay, K.I.T.T. They wont' get another shot at us!"

"Whatever we're going to do, we need to do soon, they're acquiring a targeting lock," anxiety filled K.I.T.T.'s voice.

"Microlock their motor, K.I.T.T., force them to land," Carlee exclaimed, looking over her shoulder to see where the chopper had gone.

"We have to be closer," K.I.T.T. replied.

"Have it ready, then," Carlee shot back. "Let's try this!" Carlee nearly stood on the brakes, bringing K.I.T.T.'s speed down so fast, the chopper shot past overhead. Carlee jammed her foot down on the gas again, this time accelerating only enough to put them directly under the chopper.

"Now, K.I.T.T.!"

K.I.T.T. hadn't needed to be told, though. As soon as the chopper was in range, he activated the microjammer. The chopper's motor began to cut out, and the pilot, Ramon, was forced to land.

As soon as it touched down, Rodriguez and Ramon both jumped out and started running in opposite directions.

K.I.T.T. came to a screeching halt. Carlee jumped out and ran after Ramon. "Go get Rodriguez," she shouted over her shoulder.

Tires throwing up dirt, K.I.T.T. sped off after Rodriguez.

* * *

Ramon fired back toward Carlee as he ran, but he wasn't truly aiming, so all of his shots missed. Carlee was running full tilt after him, gaining on him quickly.

Only feet separating them, Carlee jumped at him, tackling him to the ground. She grabbed his gun hand with both of hers, smashing hand and gun into the ground several times. Desperation made her strong, and he finally let go of the gun.

He threw her off, and climbed to his feet.

Carlee rolled with the throw, taking the impact on her left shoulder and hip. She felt something cold and hard under her, and grabbed the gun.

She scrambled to her feet. The gun was in her hand, but not in a firing grip, so she used it as a club, instead. Carlee swung the butt of the gun at Ramon's head as hard as she could, putting all her rage at this man behind the swing.

The gun connected with a thud, hitting Ramon in the temple. He dropped like a stone.

Carlee adjusted her grip on the gun. She aimed at Ramon's head, her finger tightening on the trigger.

Tears streamed down her face. She heard sirens quickly approaching in the distance. She knew that if she was going to do this, it had to be now, or she would never have another chance.

"What should I do, K.I.T.T.?" she asked into the comm link.

K.I.T.T. didn't have to ask what she was talking about. He knew. "I can't condone any actions that might endanger a human life, Carlee. You know that!"

"You're right," Carlee replied. She let out her breath, and released the tension on the trigger.

Two black and white cruisers screeched to a stop several feet away, and Carlee allowed them to take control of the situation.

* * *

Rodriguez didn't get far. K.I.T.T. roared past him, and skidded to a stop so close in front of him that Rodriguez ran right into K.I.T.T.'s driver side door.

K.I.T.T. opened the door hard enough to throw Rodriguez backward. Rodriguez landed on his back side, dazed.

"You're lucky I'm programmed to preserve human life," K.I.T.T. growled at Rodriguez. "That was my partner and best friend you had killed!"

Rodriguez tried to get up, but K.I.T.T. was doing doughnuts around him so tightly that he feared moving.

When K.I.T.T.'s scanners picked up the black and whites, he stopped. One of the officers came over and hauled Rodriguez to his feet. He was handcuffed, read his rights, and deposited in the back of one of the cruisers.

Carlee walked over to K.I.T.T., breathing heavily. K.I.T.T. opened the driver's door for her, and she sank gratefully into the seat.

K.I.T.T. turned on the oxygen, and scanned Carlee for injuries.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noting the tear streaked dust on her face.

"Yes, K.I.T.T. It's finally over!" Carlee sobbed.

"Not quite," K.I.T.T. paused uncertainly.

"What, K.I.T.T.?" Carlee demanded.

"There's something you need to know," K.I.T.T. began, not sure how to tell Carlee.

"Out with it!"

"Have you been feeling sick in the mornings, felt exhausted when you're normally wide awake, or had major mood swings?" K.I.T.T. asked.

Thinking about it for a moment, Carlee cautiously said, "Yes. Why, K.I.T.T.?"

"I noticed some major hormone shifts the last several times I've scanned you, Carlee. Hormones that are only present in the female body during pregnancy."

"What?" Carlee asked, surprise, shock, wonder, and happiness warring each other for dominance on her face.

"Why did you keep it from me, and how long have you known, K.I.T.T.?" Carlee demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at K.I.T.T.'s voice modulator.

"Since shortly after Michael's funeral. I was afraid of how you might react, so I kept it from you," K.I.T.T. explained, not wanting Carlee to be mad at him.

"You're right. I probably wouldn't have reacted well to it at that point," Carlee admitted.

Carlee shifted K.I.T.T. into gear, and they headed back toward the F.L.A.G. mansion.

"I miss him," K.I.T.T. said a few minutes later.

"I know, K.I.T.T. I miss him, too," Carlee replied, gently stroking the gull wing steering wheel.

"Does it ever get any better?" K.I.T.T.'s voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I've heard that in time, it does."

"How long? How many days, hours, and minutes? I don't like this feeling, as if a piece of me has been ripped away!" K.I.T.T.'s voice was filled with hopeless desperation.

"It's different for everybody, K.I.T.T. You just have to keep slogging forward. Each day will get a little easier," Carlee tried to reassure K.I.T.T. as best she could.

"Is that working for you?" K.I.T.T. asked.

"No, not really," she admitted.

"What do you think Michael would want us to do?" K.I.T.T.'s voice had dropped back to a near whisper.

"He would want us to keep going, together. To be there for each other and take care of each other," Carlee responded confidently.


End file.
